Nothing Happens Unless First We Dream
by squeakykiki
Summary: Don't really know where this came from...one of those things where you just sit down and start typing. One shot.


**Bones is not mine. I've hoped and prayed, begged and bribed, wheedled, cajoled and cried...but no joy.**

With a yell Seeley Booth sat bolt upright in bed. Sweat glistened on every inch of his body, the bedclothes lay tangled in a heap at his feet. His breathing was coming out in short painful bursts, making his chest throb uncomfortably. The pounding in his ears made it impossible to hear anything from his surroundings. He sat rigidly still for over a minute, all of his nerves tingling lest there was some unknown and unseen predator lurking.

Finally he relaxed, his muscles recoiling slowly from the rush of adrenaline brought on by his dream. He leaned his head back against the wall with a groan. There was no way he would sleep again tonight. He pushed his damp hair off his face and rubbed a hand over his tired eyelids. It had all seemed so heart-stoppingly real…

He swung his legs onto the floor impatiently. The darkness of the room was pressing in on all sides…as were the awful, graphic images from his nightmare. He shuddered involuntarily and groped around for his gym pants. His eyes had adjusted to the dark by the time his fingers closed around the soft material and he was able to pull them on unaided by light. He couldn't justify, even to himself, why he was so reluctant to, if not flood the room with light, then at least ignite a warm glow from the lamp beside his bed. It was as though he wanted to punish his subconscious for conjuring up such disturbing ideas, even though he knew perfectly well he had no control over the matter.

He moved out of the bedroom. A shaft of moonlight lit the room, casting an unearthly shimmer across the floor. Booth avoided the white column of light for some inexplicable reason. He reached out and pulled a t-shirt off the pile of laundry on the couch. He could feel his chest still slick with sweat as he wrenched the garment over his head. Desperate to get out, to leave, to run until his lungs were so constricted and his muscles screamed with such agony that he could no longer form a coherent thought, he pulled on a pair of socks and trainers, grabbed his keys and hurried out of the front door.

The coolness of the early morning froze the moisture still lingering on his skin. He puffed out a breath and began to jog. His feet thudded off the sidewalk, shattering the stillness of the sleepy quiet. Pictures and the sounds of agonised cries filled his head, disorientating him. He sped up.

Thirty minutes later he came to a sudden stop, clutching the nearest object he could find, a lamppost, for support. He had been flying, sailing over the ground, the morning dew splattering his shoes, shining with an intense brilliance as a soft pink glow filled the sky. A few birds had awoken and had begun the first tentative welcoming calls to the new day. His head felt clear, his mind at peace. And then, unbidden and unwanted, that terrifying final picture of Brennan lying dead in his arms, blood seeping from a round hole in her forehead, invaded his thoughts and sent him crashing off course.

Unaware that he was even making the noise, he let out a long, tortured howl. If anything happened to her, anything at all… He shut his eyes tightly against the tears that threatened to overflow and the chilling image swirling in his mind, taunting him. He stayed that way, huddled against the metal pole, whimpering and gasping, until his limbs seized up and his body began to shiver.

Suddenly, he raised his head. His eyes, though still red-rimmed, were clear and focused. He forced his reluctant body to move and set off at a speedy jog. The noise of his footfalls didn't seem quite so loud now that people were beginning to stir in the surrounding houses. He ran the back of his hand over his shiny face and made himself run faster, feet slamming down hard against the unyielding pavement. His body responded eagerly: he seemed rejuvenated by his new sense of purpose.

Panting, pushing himself harder and faster than he ever thought he'd moved before, he arrived at her apartment block in record time. He skidded to a halt and smiled briefly at the familiar building. Then, grunting slightly at the effort, he began a brisk walk up to the entrance. His aching limbs seemed reluctant to start up again now that he had reminded them, ever so briefly, of how good it was to simply stand still. He pounded up the stairs to her apartment, ignoring the screaming protests from his weakening legs. Now that he had decided he would do this, he felt he could run anywhere, do anything.

He reached up a hand to knock on the door, as recognisable to him as his own, then jumped back, startled, as he saw his arm trembling. The shock of this discovery gave him a moment to pause and think, to allow himself feel for a moment: his whole being was quivering with nerves and apprehension at the daunting repercussions of this idea. He sighed heavily. This was stupid. How would he even start the conversation? "I had this dream…?" Stumbling slightly on his shaky legs, he turned and retraced his steps.

He had walked about six feet when he abruptly turned around and raced back up to the door. He banged quickly on the painted wood before he lost his nerve and stood there, wheezing and shaking his head at his sheer audacity. He wiped his hands quickly on his pants, which were once again drenched with sweat that had nothing whatsoever to do with his run.

He heard movement inside the apartment and listened with bated breath to the light jingling that told him she was removing the safety chain thank God she used the safety chain and then a muffled scraping as the door opened. It was only when he realised that he was listening to the door opening rather than seeing it happen that it became clear to him that he had shut his eyes. He let out a quick gasp of air and forced his eyes open.

There she was. Her shiny brown hair fetchingly mussed, her face soft with sleep, her eyes half-closed but curious. He barely registered the fact that she was tightening the sash of a fluffy robe around her waist when she mumbled, "Booth?"

His stomach plummeting, realising this was every bit as ridiculous as he had feared, he used his best charm smile and chirped, "Mornin' Bones!" She squinted at him and grumbled, "'Snot morning yet." She gave a quick point over in the direction of the window. "Sun's not up."

He nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, well, sorry about that but this couldn't wait." She blinked expectantly at him. Cringing, he managed to choke out, "See, I had this dream…" Her eyes narrowed. "You woke me up to tell me about some dream you had? Are you on drugs Booth?" She leaned forward, her nose wrinkling. "You're very sweaty."

He drew himself up to his full height in indignation. "That's not a very nice thing to say when I've come all the way over to see you." She shrugged. Clearly her blunt comments were even more blunt than usual at ungodly hours of the morning. "Well, you are." she clarified and stepped aside to let him in. He padded softly past her, suddenly sheepish. He felt out of place and intrusive coming into her apartment to tell her something so personal.

She closed the door and turned to face him, arms folded. He ran his tongue over his cracked lips, frantically wishing he'd at least thought up an introduction before he'd barged in to say this. Of course, that's what always stopped you from saying it before. You could never think of the right words He swatted the little voice in his head away impatiently. Brennan began to tap her foot. Booth absently wiped the beads of perspiration trickling down the side of his face and cursed himself for arriving looking this dishevelled. Finally, she snapped and an angry bark of "Booth!" broke the silence.

"So, yeah, in this dream anyway, you…em…well, you died, Bones. You were shot, actually. Murdered." She raised an eyebrow. Determined to emphasise how important this was, he quietly added, "You left me."

That one hit home. The colour left her face and she closed her eyes briefly. He took a step forward and took hold of her arm. She slowly opened her eyes. It took a second or two for her to focus on him, as though she was just slipping back into consciousness from somewhere far away and unknown. He swallowed audibly. She seemed to be waiting for him to speak.

He took a deep, shuddering breath and plunged ahead.

"It just…drove home to me how, really, any one of us can go at any time…I…I woke up and I had tears on my face, Bones…I didn't even know I could still cry…and the pain…the pain in my chest was just…I thought I was dying…and, oh my God, how I wanted to, coz it would have meant seeing you again…"

He paused briefly and rolled his head back.

"I'm not explaining this right…"

He moved with a speed that startled her. Yet, when he cupped her chin to keep her eyes focused on his, it was with the sweetest, gentlest touch imaginable.

"Bones, when I woke up and realised that it was all a dream, that I still had you with me, I felt like crying all over again from the sheer joy of it. I had to get out, to leave the terrible image of you lying dead in my arms…gone before I could tell you…"

He pressed his lips tightly together and gave himself a quick shake.

"I just thought about…if you were to die and I'd never said to you…or…or if I were to die…would you wonder about the…depth of my feelings for you…would my words and friendship and smiles and looks that were just for you, just for you alone, would they be enough to leave you in no doubt as to how I feel?"

He looked into her eyes, really looked deep into her eyes. Deep enough to see all her hidden feelings, all the thoughts she kept so well guarded. And, if he wasn't very much mistaken, some of those thoughts were rapidly bubbling to the surface.

"I love you, Temperance Brennan. I've loved you for the longest time now and I've tried to fight it and ignore it…and tell myself it will pass…but it just grows stronger. I love you more and more each and every single solitary day. You give me a reason to get up in the morning. You keep the demons at bay. You put all of these wonderful dreams in my head that make the dark times so much brighter."

She was biting her lip. Booth felt his heartbeat quicken uncomfortably. Might as well say it all now that he'd started.

"I've tried to stop myself…for the same reasons I think you, if I'm reading this right, tried to stop yourself…if you're not in love, if you don't care enough about someone that you'd lay down your life for them, then you've nothing to loose. And I've tried, Bones, I feel sick for even admitting it, but I've tried so hard not to love you. But I just can't help myself. You mean more to me than I can even say. Now, I can lie to myself and I can kid myself that eventually it will pass…but nobody compares to you…and nobody ever will. So…so even if you don't feel the same way…or if you're simply too stubborn to take down the armour and realise I'm not the enemy, all I want to do is to love you…I just needed you to know. So I'd never have to worry that you were unsure."

With that, he stumbled back and away from her, reluctantly taking his hand from her smooth skin. He was afraid to look directly at her, to gage the reaction his words had left upon her face. The silence in the room was suffocating as he ploughed through the weight of his revelation to reach the door.

His fingers had just brushed the cold metal of the handle when a fluffy torpedo suddenly barrelled into him from behind. Then, in his ear, "Wait. Don't go."

Hardly daring to breathe, to believe that he hadn't slipped into another dream, he slowly turned, helped by the trembling fingers latching on to his forearms. Time seemed to slow down, colours seemed to blur and bleed into one another as he slowly lifted his eyes to hers. And then all he saw was blue. An intense, wide-eyed blue, shining with fear and determination. Before he had to chance to ask, to wonder if what she wanted was the same thing he yearned for, day after day, he felt her soft lips touch lightly against his. She pulled away slowly, unwilling to do any more without seeing how he felt. He felt dizzy from that one simple kiss…as sweet as honey yet as gentle as a butterfly. His senses reeling, he caught her gaze once more.

Their eyes said it all. There was no need to ask, to clarify how the other felt. This time they both leaned in, delighted smiles curling their lips before they joined in a binding kiss, their first proper kiss and the one they would always remember. And when she whispered "I love you," against his tingling lips, Booth's heart soared and he knew, that in this moment, all of his dreams had come true.


End file.
